Arlathvhen
by SilverMoonPhantom
Summary: The Wild Elves, the Dalish, Elvhen. Whatever the name, they had a life beyond a comparison to their city counterparts. Merrill happily called them her people, and probably always will. It's hard to leave behind a home you love. (Exploring Merrill's past)
1. Chapter 1

How many days had it been? A fortnight? A month? She'd lost track in the endless horizons of grass forest, and her clan traveling in bursts of speed as much as the wind and open spaces allowed their sails to unfurl.

It'd been forest for ages now, slow-going as the black-horned halla picked their way over stones and old roots ahead of them. The Keeper and his First's magic only did so much to coax old, stubborn trees into letting their aravels pass, though most grudgingly groaned their branches up to clear the way for yellow sails. Their homes rolled on through, Navigators perpetually fretting over sides and sails and wincing at every scraping sound. Understandable, since it was their duty to keep the aravels in traveling condition, and time was running short.

She knew they had traveled half a country to reach the gathering on time, and to miss attendance was to forsake family. Unacceptable, unless there was a very _very_ good reason why. From what she'd overheard, a broken axle or a torn sail was not an acceptable reason.

The halla did their best to pull while the wind was quiet, but Merrill was certain the poor darlings were ready to call it quits. Last night's rainfall had muddied the forest floor, splashing sand and cream colored fur in black muck with every sloshing step. Fine mist cooled already chill air until their breath gusted out in billows of smoke and steam rose from sweaty flanks.

It must have been a month, because the late summer heat was fading, Lena's child was making her look like she'd swallowed a melon, and Nera fussed more like an overzealous first-time grandmother than a Healer. Granted, she was both, but it was still entertaining to see the normally collected woman act so frazzled while simultaneously insisting nothing was wrong. The nerves were infectious, and soon it felt like everyone was strung tight with a mixture of apprehension and excitement.

Merrill had tucked herself away inside Nera's stuffy aravel, huddling under the extra-thick blankets the Healer hoarded. A normally spacious interior was filled with baskets and boxes, shelves of supplies carefully pinned down with woven net and smelling thickly of pungent herbs. Merrill shivered, more from excitement than the cold, the tiny flame hovering between her palms flaring with sparks before she clapped the light out entirely.

"Calm down, da'len."

Merrill shot Nera a small grin, wiggling her fingers as she pulled the edge of a wall's cloth flap aside, peeking out to the misty landscape. She watched the thick undergrowth fall away under pine trees that grew taller and taller, until she couldn't see the boughs unless she pressed her cheek to the corner of the window. The bark was dark and wet from misting rain, tinted a deep sort of red that grew straight upward.

Nera cleared her throat pointedly, and she tied the cloth back into place, fumbling with the knots.

"I can't concentrate when we're so close! It's my first Arlathvhen, and there's so many other elvhen to meet, and Keeper said there'll be food and dance and songs I've never heard, and I'll have to choose my Vallaslin soon, so I should meet with everyone and-"

"Yes, yes, I was there when you were born, da'len. You don't have to remind me how young you are." Nera leaned back, tapping her staff against the wooden floor, swaying slightly as the vehicle tipped up over a bump. Her own Vallaslin cut sharp lines around her eyes, the tattoos shaped almost like leaves splayed out from the wrinkles of her eyes, even as the soft expression edged toward something more worried.

"Why don't you work off some of that energy and run some errands? I have to check up on Lena's child when we stop, but it'd be nice for an update on her condition before we arrive."

Green eyes glinted with knowing amusement - surely, someone would come running if Lena were to suddenly start giving birth. There was no reason to check three times a day, but that wasn't nearly as interesting as-

"Do you think we'll get there tonight? Truly?"

The older elf leaned her head toward the cloth window Merrill had pulled open. "There was a forest of Great Red Pines, wasn't there? We'll definitely arrive before the sun sets. Perhaps..." A small smile twitched the corner of her mouth. "Perhaps we'd get there even sooner if no one had to worry about being thirsty…"

Nera laughed when the young elf rocketed out of her seat and shimmeyed up the ladder to the top of the aravel. Her smile faded as soon as Merrill was gone, weathered fingertips pulling back the edge of a window cover to watch the foggy sky.

Merrill didn't notice the surprise she caused in leaping up, too busy balancing atop the roof and craning her head back to look at the massive trees. Each trunk could have been carved into an arch wide enough to drive their aravels through. She breathed a soft sound of amazement, their tops so far up into the sky they almost seemed to live amongst the clouds. The air was cooler than she was used to, thick with the smell of sap and decaying wood.

"Oof, that's cold." She rubbed her hands together, hunching her shoulders to fold her arms as the mist steadily dampened her shirt and leggings.

"Ahh, Merrill, what are you doing out with bare skin? Get back inside."

She twisted, blinking up at Heneri. A thick scar twisted from cheek to chin, the corner of his mouth pulled in a perpetually tooth-glinting snarl. An old gift from a skirmish with humans and his from own recklessness, a good excuse to smile so that the toothy part was, at least, friendly.

He was grinning at her now, the slope of his brow speaking of worry and exasperation, holding one end of a rope as a Navigator worked in quick movements with the other end and a steering lever.

"I'm building a resistance against the cold!" She declared, deliberately unfolding her arms and shaking them out. Goosebumps seemed to lift every fine hair on her body, even the nape of her neck and scalp bristling up.

"That's not even how that works!" He huffed, already climbing to his feet, "Go put on a coat."

"Try and stop me!" Merrill laughed, swinging down to the aravel's side, landing in a crouch on a bed of thick tree needles. She wiggled her toes in it, standing up to turn around and admire the massive growth as Heneri's halfhearted grumbles faded behind the creak of travel.  
An annoyed shout behind her, and she danced out of the way of another aravel, cloven hooves stepping where she'd been standing a moment after.  
"Sorry!" She called, and the Navigator waved his hand, keeping the other palm on a halla's shoulder as he guided them and the aravel they pulled through the forest.

Merrill found Lena's easily enough. She ran up, hooking her half-numb feet into the ledge behind a wheel and pulling back a window to poke her head in.

Goodness, it was so warm in there. Almost stiflingly so. The largest aravel was justifiably packed with people, knees bumping across impromptu crate chairs, heads craned to listen or tilted back to nap against other supplies as they traveled.

A half-dozen turned to look at her, but quickly went back to their conversation. A hearthkeeper paused, tilting his head in question to why she was interrupting in the first place as the source of the thick warmth curled in friendly loops around his fingers. A small part of her was wistful at the casual skill, even the smallest fire spirit still beyond her ability. The serpent lapped at the tiny sacrificial cut on the hearthkeeper's finger and she shook her head, trying to focus on what she came here for.

"How's Lena doing? Nera wanted to- Oh! Hello Lena." She spotted the mound of blankets tucked near the front, a tired expression on the woman's face as she levered herself up.

"Well," she started, as Merrill braced herself against the aravel's bump over a root. "I want to vomit, my feet hurt, my back hurts, and I really want some pumpkin bread, but in the sense that she's probably asking, I'm fine. That's all normal."  
The elvhen woman grimaced as they went over another bump, palm bracing against her swollen stomach, a normally loose tunic pulled tight enough around the skin that wrinkles didn't even budge.

"Would you like some water? I might be able to find some ginger for your…vomiting."

Lena sighed at her earnest question, flapping her hand. Someone reached up to steady a pot from clanking loudly against the wall as their wheel caught another root.

"Don't worry about it, da'len, I'll be fine."

"Anyone else?"

A few of the other elves waved her off at once, but one perked up, asking for a bit of water if she didn't mind. Merrill took his waterskin, hopping off the aravel and jogging further up the line to find the one keeping their water barrels.  
Others of her clan let her pass freely as they walked, asking her to tell so-and-so a message, or to remind so-and-so to do some task. She ended up visiting most of the wagons, ferrying snacks and water and messages between her clansmen, and endured plenty of incredulous stares before she finally admitted that her toes were too numb for all this and she slunk back into Nera's aravel, happily snuggling back into the blankets.

She fell asleep to the soft creaking of wood, and Nera's rumbling purr as the woman combed fingers through her damp hair, warmth and soft light spilling from a tiny flame cupped in the other.

The road went onward. Days of sun, or days of rain. Too many days, and while she was used to their constant roaming, at least give a day to rest in one place!

Merrill tried to keep herself entertained, helping around and losing herself in the meditative weave of basket traps, the gathering of herbs for drying, and twisting together much-needed rope. Days. She'd been making rope for days. Not lost enough, because one could only weave so many ropes on the back of a moving wagon before her joints ached and the looped end of it looked appealing.

So, Merrill scrubbed off mud from tired halla and off the wheels of their aravels. She practiced her magic and shaky penmanship under the Keeper's watchful eye. Supplies were counted, tar re-applied to leaking cracks, fingers stained green to help Nora strip and crush Elfroot for poultices. She hauled water up to camp to boil clean, and picked scales out of her hair after helping prepare freshly caught fish.

Heneri insisted on braiding her hair back after that, pulling the ends up out of her face. She checked to make sure he'd kept the plait utilitarian, fingers immediately finding the twigs he'd stuck in there. He laughed and batted away the pinecone she lobbed at his head. Despite the age difference, she'd have thought he was flirting if it wasn't for the white thread still wrapped around a thin braid behind his ear. If it wasn't for the melancholy look he gave her when he thought she wasn't looking, or the lingering walks with halla as they grazed in the cool mist.

A pretty smile wasn't the only thing he lost in that attack.

The tight growth of massive trees slowly cleared to reveal sprawling, rust-colored sand and sparse grass. Rocky hills rolled out to the horizon, cut into deep canyons, sunlight _finally_ warming her dark, mist-chilled skin.

They paused for a breath, to unhitch the halla for a break and open their sails to dry. Water and food was passed around, restless elves stretching and moving about to stretch their cooped-up muscles while halla sprawled out to stain their pale coats in rust, happy to _not_ move. Merrill gazed out over the unfamiliar terrain, admiring the spindly hunch of storm-toughened trees, shadows where stone collapsed into canyons, and the lazy turn of carrion birds in the distance. Forest had given way to what would have been a mountainside, before eons of river and rainwater carved it down to the bone.

The Navigators were grumbling about adjusting the brakes to account for the sloping path, but all Merrill could see was the red-striped wagons emerging from the forest far to the east. She recognized the body as Dalish in make, but no sails graced their tops. A forest clan? Or at least, somwhere that didn't have the same kind of advantage that the Alerion clan did, coming from the windy grasslands to the north. The caravan was much smaller, too, only three Aravels and a dozen halla between them.

Merrill still jumped in excitement, running ahead past Heneri's leisurely patrol to clamber up a tree, raising her hand against the sun to get a clearer view of them. Bright red paint striped dark wooden sides and wheels, different than the plain, pale sides of their own. A few elves walked ahead, and one of them noticed her eager wave - raising a hand in greeting across the long expanse of patchy grass.

She didn't even realize she'd missed the call to return until Heneri tapped the end of his bow against her foot.

"Are you coming?" She twisted to look at him, steadying herself on a branch, but he was already jogging away from her. It took some dexterity to slither back down out of the spiny tree, red dust clinging to her feet as she ran to catch up. The halla had been herded back onto their feet, trusted not to wander away.

Several elves perched atop each aravel, helping the Navigators pull rope and adjust angles until the sails caught the breath of wind, lurching the loaded vehicle forward. Their herd seemed delighted at the new pace, tossing their twisting horns and quick to trot beside them while leather and wood groaned. Merrill had to jog, then run to keep up.

Any who had been walking between the wagons already hopped on, riding the wind and watching the happy hustle of sturdy deer. Merrill missed her jump, a foot slipping and a hand clasping her forearm even as she corrected herself with a hop to leap up to safety.

"Almost lost you there."

Heneri grinned his toothy smile, helping Merrill up into the top of the aravel. The two of them crouched, a hand braced against the sturdy main pole while another elvhen worked around them to constantly adjust intricate ropes. Thick dust kicked up behind them, thrown by wheels and hooves, buffeted into strange shapes by the wind that pushed them.

The sail-less aravels were advancing quickly, overtaking the back of their caravan and riding abreast of their largest group of wagons. The herd that flowed around them was much darker than she was used to, browns and creams and black markings around their eyes that looked like tears. Someone she didn't recognize hollered at them, waving. Merrill and Heneri waved back, until everyone atop an aravel was shouting gleeful words lost to the wind and laughing as they pantomimed teasing messages to each other. The dark halla surged forward, and Merrill gasped as one of the riders seemed to lose their balance, tumbling sideways and off the edge before catching himself on the back handle of the wagon's top to sweep his arm out in a performative bow.

Heneri hooted his delight, quickly pinching his fingers between his lips to give a melodic whistle of approval, even as several of their other members clapped raucously. She could see the performer's white teeth gleam as he smiled back, long braids bouncing as he pulled himself back onto the aravel's top. The red-painted wagons passed their caravan, dark halla turning as one down into the canyon path they all headed toward.

They rode the wind in their wake, nearly a hundred sturdy deer adjusting their path and squeezing together until the caravan pressed into the shadow of tall rock walls, and striped earth blotted away the warmth once more.


	2. Chapter 2

She heard the soft squeaking of brakes as they rode the sandy path downward, even as the mountain's slope grew the walls ever-taller around their heads. The path sloped a bit up again, and Merrill realized why the gusts of wind had been growing so cold - and how the breath had been sustained despite being away from the sky.

A wide, dark mouth yawned open ahead of them, their path sloping down on one side to a slow-moving stream, while the rest of it continued into the darkness. A part of her twisted anxiously, unused to seeing such a huge cave. She considered going inside, but her curiosity got the best of her, and she settled for hunching up near the aravel's mast in a weak defense against whatever waited in the dark.

As they rolled in, the air chilled several degrees almost instantly, feeling cold and wet against her skin. Striped stone walls curved over their head, sagging down around them.

The caravan paused again before the path narrowed, hooking up halla and lowering the masts, and Heneri snickered with his Navigator friend about the Keeper's pride in their sails. They could showboat properly at the Arlathvhen.

Merrill just swiveled around, taking in the glistening cave walls (damp from condensation) and glistening crystal (refracting torches as they lit them) and glistening worms writhing above them. She did a double-take at that, standing up and peering curiously at the pale blue creatures adhered to the ceiling far above them. Fine silk threads hung from the dimly glowing bodies - a weblike function, if she had to guess by the few dead moths drawn up inside them.

Something yelped and splashed, and she jumped in fright, spinning and ducking behind the lowered mast. A few of the halla finished their slide down the gravel slope, happily stomping in ankle-deep water and turning the red dust on their bellies into redder mud. The HerdMother at the front of the caravan shouted at them, and several more of the herd slowed to watch. The troublemakers didn't seem to want to listen, flicking their ears toward her echoing call and lingering to take long swallows. One of them lunged at the other to splash water up over its neck, then all four of them were scrambling back up the slope, dripping and bumping into each other and perking up toward their caller with an innocence even Merrill could tell was feigned.

In steps the cave narrowed, stone fangs framing doorways and tunnels worn smooth by many passing feet. One of the still-wet deer earned a scolding tap on the nose when he tried to lip at a wall of dimly glowing crystals.

A warm hand touched her elbow and she turned to find Heneri pushing a pelt over her shoulders, grey fur tickling her chin.

"Go inside - We'll be out of the caves before sunset." She blinked in surprise, looking down at her trembling hands. She hadn't even realized she was shaking. Flexing her fingers, the numb ache agreed with his sentiment, and she climbed down from the roof, hopping off and seeking out Nera's aravel to climb back inside.

Sweet warmth enveloped her, and Merrill adjusted the fur until she could curl her knees under it while Nera let her tuck into her side.

"Wake me up when we're almost there."

Nera patted her head and agreed, and Merrill let herself doze in the warmth and steady clatter of wood and hooves on stone.

"Da'len, wake up."

Merrill churred a faintly confused noise, patting her hand at the whomever was nudging her shoulder. That earned an amused huff and the warm fur tugged off her shoulder, much to her sleep-addled dismay.

"We're here."

That caught her attention, and she bolted upright, then flinched away from a forehead collision with Nera's surprised face.

"Oh, Sorry!" Merrill fluttered her hands up to try to hold the woman's head to examine it for injury, but she was brushed aside and pulled up onto her feet.

"It's alright, It's alright," Nera assured, "Now go help break camp. I figured you didn't want to sleep through tonight's festivities."

Merrill chirped a delighted noise entirely on accident, accepting the oversized cloak (Probably one of Nera's older ones, by the smell) and pushing her hands through the sleeves even as she opened the door and jumped out the back of the stationary aravel.

Really, there should only be so much awe one can experience in a single day. Apparently she had yet to find her limit, because their surroundings were absolutely gorgeous. Smooth rock dipped and dove into a series of small pools, all of them crystal clear, ripples and splashes showing their constant flow from some underground source. The pool-marbled river snaked around to the left, while to the right their rocky ground dropped quite suddenly out to open ocean spreading to the very edge of the pinking horizon. Ahead of them, the plateau widened into scattered trees and rocks, rolling into moss, then thick grass and lush plants as more and more life showed where the deepest mountain shadows ended.

All around them, aravels and shifting groups of halla had set up campsites, herds mingling and unfamiliar elves greeting each other in enthusiastic hugs and thumps on the back. Some of her clan's other children were already following the Keeper away from the campsite, carrying bundles of cloth and rope and dried herbs. She watched until she could see them no longer, until their forms ducked into an archway formed by thickly grown trees and extending into a living wall.

The whirlwind of breaking camp soon swept Merrill up into action, ducking around elbows and dancing under barrels thrown onto shoulders.

What might look from afar like a chaotic thrash of people was actually quite organized. Some helped to fold up the sails, while others spread out their aravel's sides into wider roofs for tents. Supplies were removed, sorted, and blankets aired out in the cool breeze.

Merrill started up a fire with a few forced sparks, poking at it a bit before a Hearthkeeper shushed her away, flicking her fingers like she was a naughty deer and easily coaxing the flames to life.

She made a rude noise with her lips and laughed at the rude gesture she got in return before scampering up to help Nera with whatever she was doing.

Merrill was directed to sort through the dried herbs, making sure they'd survived the journey all packed up like they were. The trip from Nevarra to the Dales was long, and they'd struggled through a swamp and a lot of mucky rain, so it was nice to know that nothing had gotten damp. The Arlathvhen only happened a few times in a lifetime. She missed her first one, being too young to remember it, but Nera once told her that the most beautiful creations were displayed at Arlathvhen. After all, Jhun's Hands couldn't help but compete for their god's favor, and the trades you offered here were just about the most noteworthy sort of thing you could create.

She was almost an adult - near enough that she might be able to receive her Vallaslin, if she could convince anyone that she was responsible enough to earn them. That she knew her place well enough to step into it fully.

Ha.

Merrill groaned, flopping her torso onto the lip of the aravel as Nera continued to work beside her, wrinkled hands not even pausing to flick aside the splayed hair and continue her sorting.

"Something ails you, da'len?"

Merrill grunted into the wood, dragging her arms up and stretching them up over her head to wedge her fingers into a seam. She sighed, turning her head and looking up at Nera pleadingly.

"I want to be a Keeper" Nera twitched a lip in a smile, knowing where this conversation was going.

"I gave you the exercises, and you can learn-" "-proper spells after you reach adulthood, I knooow." Merrill made another frustrated noise into her arm, turning her face back down toward the wood and kicking at the ground.

"So you've decided what Clan you wish to be Keeper of? You might have to be a Second, even before you can be a First, if there's no clan needing a Keeper"

"This one, probably."

"Probably?" Another grumble, more hesitation, and Merrill slid her arms back toward her to prop her chin back onto them.

"There's just… so many interesting things I _could_ be doing. Heneri gets to run around tracking things, and the Halla are so sweet, and I really like when I get to help steer our sails."

"They let you steer?" She pouted at the teasing tone, correcting herself.

"I got to hold a rope. Still, it was really fun, and they taught me how to fold up the sails all nice and neat. How to patch and waterproof them. There's just… so _much_."

"No one said you had to choose now, you know. Just… soon. There's still time to figure it all out. Still time to learn"

Merrill blew a strand of hair out of her face.

"Yeah, but I don't… I don't want to pick just one, y'know?"

Nera's hands paused, and she leaned her hip against the wood shelf, palms settling around her workspace.

"You can tie a rope, yes?"

Merrill blinked, confused at where this was going.

"Sure."

"And you can shoot a bow."

"Yeah."

"Cartweel?"

"Yeees?"

"Can you do all of those things at the same time?"

Merrill paused, blinked.

"I don't have enough hands for that."

"I'm sure you could manage to do most of those things at once, if you gave it some effort."

"Yeah, but they'd all end up being terrible. I'd probably break the bow-."

She paused, and Nera patted her elbow, leaning back and going back to sorting.

"Choose one, da'len. Don't try to be all things, or you'll break more than the bow."

Merrill hummed, watching brown hands work for a bit before pushing herself back up and helping to finish. The herbs were familiar, their smells sharp and comforting. Hearthkeepers had a lot of duties, and she didn't technically have to specialize beyond that. She enjoyed cooking, weaving - more than trying to track a boar in the rain, anyway. It was nice to help people directly. Tend to their needs. Make them happy and comfortable.

"I'll be a Keeper for this Clan….. maybe?"

"Maybe," Nera agreed, smile soft as the tattooed leaves crinkled around her eyes.

It wasn't long before the healer left Merrill to finish, ushering Lena to the side for another checkup. Merrill was about ready to try to eavesdrop on Lena (A baby was so exciting! How far along was she?) when a basket was pushed into her arms.

"Take these down to the Arlathvhen." She shifted her arms to peek up at the elder, thin white fur dusting the old woman's sun-leathered cheeks, only really visible where wrinkles bunched the hairs together. Merrill thought she looked like a particularly grumpy peach.

"Hurry up now, the Keeper is already heading down. You don't want to look lazy."

Merrill grinned, sketching a bow and backpedaling into a turning leap toward the steeper part of the hill. She hitched the basket higher, glancing only briefly at the bags of carefully sorted seeds inside. Fruit and vegetables from their corner of the world, herbs and spices that could be grown in any climate with the right touch of magic and a mild winter. Heneri caught up with her as she carefully slowed to a careful walk down the irregularly dipping hillside, the older hunter stooping under the weight of a bundle of hides. Merrill hummed, eagerly watching the trickle of elvhen from other aravels join them down the hill.

"Do you think someone will have any Beehives?" The thought occurred to her, "I do love honey, and I heard there's a clan near Ferelden who keeps bees. Seems a bit risky, stealing honey from bees, but Lena said they could wear huge leather tarps to keep their stingers off. Is that true?"

Heneri laughed easily under her interested onslaught, shaking his head.

"I've no idea," he admitted, slowly edging around a massive stone in their path. "We could keep an eye out, though. I'm sure if anyone was keeping bees, they'd bring some to trade."

Merrill couldn't bite back the giggle bubbling in the back of her throat, green eyes sparkling as she trotted a bit faster down the hill.

"Oh, hurry up then, I don't want to be late!"

"Trading doesn't start until tomorrow!" He called after her, but hastened his step regardless.

The edge of the wood loomed up, little undergrowth to speak of, but tightly packed nonetheless. The two of them followed a thin path of trampled grass along the edge, several other little trails all meeting up at one entrance into the trees.

The boughs formed a neat arch, branches twisting artfully together into intricate patterns. Voices could be heard, the murmur of conversation and high trill of instruments finally audible now that they were past enough of the barrier. A larger group of elves was paused in the hall of trees, heads bent together as they whispered about something. One head popped up, the rest swiftly following.

Merrill felt her eyes widen, shuffling a bit sideways purely on instinct to put Heneri's body between her and them. But- he didn't shy away at all.

In fact, one of the younger elves (older than her still, his vallaslin arching into a stylized wing across his cheek and forehead) jumped at him, embracing him even as the hunter laughed and tried to set down the bundle of hides.

"Mercy, mercy, I'm not as young as I used to be."

"Brother, if you try to tell me you've got a bad back, I'll break it myself."

Heneri laughed again, looping the younger man into a hug and lifting him off his feet with a spin.

"You've gotten your Vallaslin, I see." Once Heneri put him down again, "I didn't expect Falon'Din from you." the other Dalish had gathered in a half-circle around them, crowding the pathway as others squeeze past. Merrill stuck to the edge, avoiding the glances from people she'd never met before, words tied on her tongue.

"Yes, well, someone's got to call you back after you get your head bitten off in some wild hunting party." A few laughs, and Heneri's lopsided smile twitched a bit larger. She was missing something.

"I suppose that's fair. With my luck I'd end up wandering around some human city, harassing mages until they tried to exorsize me as a demon." Another ripple of snickers, and the group amorphously began to head down the hall of trees, Merrill still sticking close to Heneri's shadow.

When she stepped into the light again, she felt… Well, a bit like that feeling when you tip back on a log, expecting it to stay firm, but it starts to roll instead. You kick your feet up, gasp, flail a bit, but in the end you're ass-over-teakettle, adrenaline drumming through your blood as the world steadies again.

She felt like she'd just felt the world shift under her, a moment away from rolling when she thought it had been firm.

There were just… so many people.

Crowds of strangers. She'd heard them described, but had never seen in person - She'd traveled with her clan for years, living and thriving off the land, occasionally meeting groups of other travelers or tucking herself away in an aravel if an especially foolish group of bandits tried to challenge them. She'd grown up knowing everyone by name. This, though… She couldn't even count the number of people in the wide clearing - couldn't even see them all, with bonfire wood stacked high in the center and magic-grown structures dotting the edges.

Everything was bursting with color.

Dark and light woods had been grown in a half-circle over a cleared patch of dusty earth. The tops arched together - green and brown bark, and the pale skin of ash trees with their silver-flashing leaves - into a canopy of woven life. Someone had thought to add Wisteria amongst the trees, so that thick purple cones of tightly clustered purple flowers hung far above the viewers' head. Soft clover had spread across the field - either by design or by chance, it left a soft pad beneath her bare feet regardless.

Several musicians had picked up a tune under the arch, wooden instruments humming with strings and buzzing breaths in quick staccato trills while several elves danced in dizzying motions, arms twisting together into knots before spinning free.

Children smaller than she, likewise bare cheeked and hair woven with flowers, chased each other around the open field. Merrill lifted her basket for two of them as they ducked past her, the second one stumbling as they tried to chase down the first.

The smells were nearly overwhelming - food being cooked, the scents from innumerable individuals, their halla, their travel-sweat and different leathers. The smell of crushed clover, and sweet breads, and something smoky she couldn't quite identify as they all rushed over her senses, half blinding her from sensory overload.

Hundreds of Elvhen and halla were milling about the edges, flowed around her, and it was nearly as exciting as it was terrifying. It felt like her neck might swivel right off as she kept turning to look at new things, new people. Someone with sand-pale skin had painted themselves in streaks of red, while a deeply browned counterpart was brushed with bright yellows and golds. Gold-lined eyes found her own, and Merrill squeaked, ducking her head away from staring. She licked her lips, keeping her eyes down while wondering faintly if her skin would look half as beautiful, adorned with gold. It was dark from the sun, but nowhere near the deep shade of that elf. She peeked back, admiring how the yellow flowers sat in those elegant braids before running to catch up with Heneri before he vanished into the crowd.

She swallowed the overload of questions on the tip of her tongue, the strangers still around her inspiring a tight, creeping nervousness. She wasn't sure when Heneri's brother had left, but the little group wasn't anywhere to be seen.

"You can set it down here, thank you."

Oh thank goodness. Keeper Arlithen's familiar voice was a stern, but welcome intrusion in her overwhelmed world. He was gesturing to someone, the bright yellow cloth of this hut's roof casting the world in a familiar shade.

Merrill scurried to his side, setting down the basket and hovering while Heneri immediately walked back out into the shifting flocks of people outside. She almost followed out of habit, but caught herself on the edge of the doorway, watching people pass, head pounding as her ability to process it all started to flag.

There were lilac bushes growing between little structures, pink and purple flowers thickening the air with sickly sweet perfume. An unfamiliar sort of halla was grazing on clover, thick fur and fat neck telling some part of her brain that it was from one of the southern clans, built to endure the cold and harsh winters. Its horns were carved in unfamiliar patterns. Someone upwind of them was cooking some sort of sweet bread, full of spices and honey. Oh, honey- what about honey did she want to ask?

Someone was wearing etched leather, darkened with curlicues that must have taken hours, forming…. Leaves? Feathers? She couldn't- The buzz of voices grew stronger, the texture of the doorway's bark under her fingertips feeling almost painful. (Or was she just gripping it too hard?)

Talking, noises, it all seemed to wash over her in a dull, muting roar. The voice of her own thoughts had raised up in a growing scream, trying to drown it out, to stop the flow somehow even as her muscles froze.

Someone touched her shoulder and she twitched, looking up as Keeper Arlithan added to the cacophany, lips moving, sound coming out, but she couldn't- couldn't understand.

"'M'sorry." She croaked, and let her Keeper guide her down to the ground, tucking her knees up to her chin. Noise and movement, and she ducked her head down, trying to breathe in her own scent. Tried to cover her ears with her palms, but even her own heartbeat was too loud. Too strong, too bright, _Everything was too much._

Something heavy draped over her shoulders and head, blotting out the light and muffling sounds. Something firm squeezed around her shoulders. She stiffened for a moment, before a strange sort of relief washed over her. A muscle in the back of her neck relaxed.

The pressure increased slightly - an arm? Her side was pressed against something warm and sturdy through the heavy blanket, and she found herself curling into it just slightly.

She counted her heartbeats, slowly easing her fingernails from the painful bite they'd been digging into her forearms. A deep, rumbling purr buzzed beside her. The vibration comforting in a way she couldn't articulate.

Slowly, like words being drawn up from underwater, she started to understand sounds again.

"You're alright, it's alright. You're safe." She made a faint questioning rumble in the top of her chest, the words pausing.

"Ah, welcome back. Gave me a bit of a scare."

"Sorry." she rasped again.

"No need for that, da'len, this is your first time. I should have known something like this might happen. It's a lot, and you never liked crowds."

Oh, it was still her Keeper.

"Would you like to stay under there a bit longer? I've got some work to do yet, but no one will disturb you here."

She leaned a bit harder against him, and he squeezed her shoulders once, then let go. Merrill wobbled a bit, but tucked the edges of the blanket under her feet as Keeper Arithari left her alone in the warm, breath-humid cocoon, Nera's overlarge coat still bunched up around her shoulders.

It smelled like halla, and home.

She closed her eyes,

And breathed.


End file.
